


Hurts Just a Little

by sans_souci2



Category: Lethal Weapon (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-11 08:25:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8971747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sans_souci2/pseuds/sans_souci2
Summary: Episode 3 Coda-Never underestimate the power of a  cattle prod





	1. Chapter 1

“Thanks for joining us Detective Riggs. Now that you’re here we can finally begin.”

Murtaugh waits for it. Salivating a little in his head. A few seconds later he’s still waiting.

 _What?_   He watches his partner cross the room. _So_ w _here’s the smart-ass reply?_

He takes a closer look. _Wait a minute. The guy’s definitely moving funny_.

When Riggs reaches him, instead of dropping down on the couch he lowers himself slowly. Really slowly. It even sounds like he bites back a groan when his butt hits the couch.

_What the hell?_

As much as he wants to, there’s no time to call Riggs out on his strange behavior. Avery’s already launched into a briefing about street gang activity being on the rise. He’s slapping photos of LA gang leaders on the screen and throwing out intel garnered from a slew of informants and pretty much demanding 100 % of their attention. Thirty minutes later he wraps things up, telling them to get going and bring him back something the DA will like.

They both say they're on it and stand up to leave. He does it without giving it a thought. Next to him Riggs executes the same move but like a man twice his age.

As soon as they’re out of Avery’s earshot, “What the hell is wrong with you Riggs?”

“Besides you being up in my grill?”

“I am not up in your grill. I’m simply wondering why you’re moving like my grandfather?”

“I’m doing no such thing.”

“Yes you are. Why are you walking like that? “

“Like what?”

“Like you got something in your damn pants.”

“For fuck’s sake Roge, you were there yesterday.”

He rears back. “What?”

“That love bite Paco gave me? Let's just say it has some staying power.”

“I... I thought it was just a little … you know a little burn.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s all it was,” Riggs says wincing when he sits down. “Can we stop talking about it?  Why don’t you pull up the files on a few of those hombres Avery was just talking about.”

“No. Show me the burn.”

“What?"

"Show me the burn."

"I'll do no such thing.”

“The hell you won't.  I need to figure out if I should be hauling your ass down to the ER. “

“Let me stop you right there. You don’t need to do _anything_ except your job which, as outlined by our boss just a few minutes ago, involves investigating gang related crimes.”

“Is the skin broken? Is the thing bleeding?”

“Did you not hear me?”

“I heard you but I’m ignoring you because you’re being stupid.”

“I’m being stupid?”

“You bet you are. I guess you haven’t heard of flesh eating bacteria?”

“Oh Jesus here we go. Are you out of your mind Murtaugh?”

“No I’m simply looking out for you, which you clearly aren’t capable of doing. We had a case in the department just last year. This guy gets a little scrape and ignores it. Next thing you knew he’s in the hospital having huge chunks of dead flesh cut away-”

“Oh please. Stop it right there Roger. I have a simple burn here,” he points above his right thigh crease. “Being as it’s in the area it’s in, I simply have to move a bit carefully while it heals. That’s all. Are we finished?”

“Show me and I’ll let you know.”

“Jesus you are a pain in the ass.”

“So humor me . “

“I’m not showing you anything out here in front of everyone.”

“Then show me in the bathroom.”

“Do you know how obnoxious you are?”

“Do you know how irresponsible you are when it comes to your health?”

“Fuck! Okay fine. Let’s do this so you’ll leave me alone.” Riggs stands up holding his breath.

“After you,” Murtaugh offers with a flourish of his hand.

“Fuck you,” Riggs growls pushing past him.

 ____~_____

 “I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” Riggs says lifting up his shirt. He taped some paper towels over the burn that morning and now he has to unzip and pull his jeans down a little to get them off.

Arms crossed and looking more worried than smug Roger watches.

“Son of a …bitch!” Riggs hisses when he pulls back the bandage.

“Son of a bitch is right. Oh man, that… that doesn’t look good pal.”

Riggs stares at what the prod’s done to him. _Damn it to hell_. The burn is oozy and yellowish; the skin around it is tight and puffy red.

“It’s just because my pants are irritating the thing,” he says straightening up. “It’s fine.”

“Like hell it is. Put that bandage back and pull up your pants – I’m taking you to the ER.”

____ ~______

  
_Cedars Sinai Hospital ER_

Stretched out on a gurney, wearing a hospital gown, Riggs keeps one arm draped over his eyes, refusing to look at Murtaugh. “You’re loving this aren’t you?” he asks.

“Me? Loving this? No way. I just want to be sure you’re okay,, that’s all.”

“Well I was okay. This morning. Before you dragged me down here. Now that two nurses and a medical student have yanked this damn gown up and stared at my business I’m a little less than ok.”

“Come on Riggs, I’m sorry they’re taking so long getting you squared away. “

“And this,” Riggs says lifting his other arm up to wiggle the IV tubing snaking out of it, “this is complete and total over kill.”

“No it’s not. You heard the nice nurse-when you do see a doc he might want to give you a dose of antibiotics through that.”

“Which I don’t need.”

“Wait a minute. Was that a flinch?”

“It was not”

“You’re hurting aren’t you?”

“I’m not going to answer that.”

The curtain to the bay suddenly opens. A woman in scrubs and a white coat walks in. “Mr. Riggs?”

“In the flesh,” Murtaugh says pointing to his partner.

“I’m Dr. Carter. I hear you had a run in with a cattle prod?” She’s all business-already pulling on a pair of exam gloves.

“That’s right,” Riggs answers, eyes still on the ceiling. .

“And how did that happen?”

He’d only answered the exact same question about ten times.

“My partner and I were chasing a suspect who happens to like cattle prods and when he and I got into it, he zapped me.”

“Zapped as in a quick tap or did he hold the prod against you for a while?

“It was… it was for a little bit.”

“Why don’t I have a look,” she says already pulling the sheet down.

Cool air wafting over his bare skin makes him shiver. The fact that his privates are fully exposed sends a hot flush of color across his chest of up his neck. He feels her arranging the sheet over his crotch. Good news- it feels like she’s got his bits and pieces pretty much covered. Bad news –she’s messing around down there.

“Well you’ve definitely got quite a burn here.”

“It’s just a burn.”

“That appears to be infected.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“You’re right. But it could become one if we don’t treat it. Is this painful,” she asks, pressing gently around the periphery of the burn.

The way he catches his breath and holds it seems answer enough. “And how about here?” she asks, walking her fingers along the crease in his groin, pressing in harder than the first time.

“N…no.”

“Good.” I’m going to mark your skin so we can track this redness.”

It feels like she’s drawing on him with a magic marker. He can’t help but glance down. _Shit._ It's exactly what she's doing and she’s damn near his curly hairs. _Christ._ He hadn’t really checked himself out all that thoroughly but now, under the bright exam light he can see that redness has spread out from the burn down across his lower belly into toward his privates. It even extends further down, stopping a few inches past his thigh crease. _Shit._ He drops back against the gurney with a loud sigh. _This just keeps getting better and better._

Thankfully he feels the magic marker action stop and hears the doc peel her gloves off. It’s time to wrap this fiasco up. “So you going to spread a little ointment on this, give me some pills and send me packing doc?”

She glances up from his chart like she hadn’t heard him, “It looks like you’re running a slight fever Mr. Riggs.”

“Naw. It’s just a little warm in here.”

“Well I’d still like to give you a dose of IV antibiotic.”

“Whoa, Come on. Is that really necessary?”

“I’m afraid it is. We’ve seen some nasty complications from injuries like this. You have quite a bit of soft tissue damage and a pretty impressive infection less than 24 hours after you were burned.”

He doesn’t say anything. _What’s there to say?_ It’s two against one and he’s the one with a worthless gown bunched up around his middle and a sheet only halfway covering his business.

“I’d also like to debride this burn.”

“Debride?” Murtaugh asks.

He can see him lean forward and answers before the doc can, “It just means clean it out.”

“And cut away any infected tissue,” she finishes.

 _And thank you so much for that_.

 _Shit. Shit. Shit_. No way is he going to look over at the ‘I told you so,’ smirk that has to be plastered on Roger’s face.

“After that you can go home but you need to have someone with you. I want the dressing changed every four hours and someone keeping an eye on you.”

“I live alo-”

“He can come home with my. My wife and I can take care of him.”

“I don’t want to go home with you-“

“Then I can admit you-“

“No!” He sits up fast yanking the gown over what needs to be covered. The sudden movement sets off a firestorm in his groin. It’s important to show he’s not hurting but it’s damn hard to pull off. “I’m n…not staying here.”

“Easy buddy. Okay. You’re not staying. How about we let the good doctor here do what she needs to do and then I’ll take you home? Harper has been known to be quite a good nurse.”

“Harper?” the doctor asks.

“My 18 month old daughter.”

The doctor raises an eyebrow and then turns back to Riggs with a smile. “Sounds like you’re going to be in good hands. Here let me help you lay back down and get a little more comfortable.”

He doesn’t answer. Shit times three again. A pansy-assed two-bit burn has him breathing hard and starting to feel sick to his stomach. _What the hell is going on?_

_____~___

“Hey, what’s that?”

“It’s just a little pain medicine. Dr. Carter thought you should have some.”

“Well Dr. Carter is wrong.”

The nurse looks at him, syringe in mid-air , “Are you sure.”

“I’m sure. Listen can you get the good doctor in here so she can do whatever she thinks she has to do and I can get out of here?”

“She’ll be here in a jiffy- she’s just finishing up with another patient.”

“Great.”

“Take it easy Riggs. We got nothing else we need to be doing.

“We got everything else we need to be doing.”

“Would you stop it! You just can’t keep going like a damn energizer bunny. You got hurt, okay? Cause of me- I admit it. Now you got to get taken care of. It’s no big deal.” After a minute of watching Riggs, “What? What is wrong?”

“I…I hate being a patient.”

“Don’t we all.”

“I’m pretty sure I hate it more than most folks.”

Something in Riggs’ voice gets Murtaugh’s attention. “What are saying?”

For the next few seconds he says nothing. _Does he want to go there? To the place he’s avoided all these years?_

“Riggs? Talk to me.”

Softly, so softly Murtaugh has to lean in to hear him he says, “It’s just…it’s just I got really messed up a while ago.”

“What happened? “

“So I was on a mission and fucked up and got captured. Long story short they took me to a facility to interrogate me.”

“Oh shit,” Murtaugh says, “let me guess. It was a hospital?”

“Of sorts.”

“And they did…they did nasty shit to you.”

“They did some God awful shit to me.”

“Oh man.” Roger can’t cross the room fast enough. Leaning over Riggs he's babbling because he can’t help it. He makes promises . Lots of promises. “This here? This isn’t gonna be any thing like you went through. I swear to God. I’m gonna be here, right next to you every second. I’m gonna insist they knock you out or get you so high you don’t have a care in the world. I mean it. You’re going to float through this like you’re at a damn massage parlor.”

“A massage…parlor?”

“I don’t know. Whatever. What I mean is it’s … it’s not going to be…I'm not gonna let it be..anything like what you went through.”

“I appreciate that Roge. Honestly, thank you.”

"Don't thank me. Hell. I can't even imagine--"

“Roge?”

 “Yeah?”

 “Stop talking.”

 ___~___

 


	2. Chapter 2

_Damn Navy SEAL._

Murtaugh can feel his blood pressure rising. And for good reason. The nice ER doc is trying to convince Riggs to let her give him some pain medicine-the easy way-in his IV. _Talk about a no brainer._

“It’s a fast acting agent,” the Doc is telling him. “It will help take the edge off while I inject a local anesthetic but it won’t leave you with that fuzzy, cotton mouth feeling that most pain meds do.”

_And the Navy SEAL response is?_

“Thanks but I’m good.”

_Good?_

“Whoa buddy! Wait a minute, let’s think this through. Based on what you told me a few minutes ago it seems like floating in la la land would be an ideal way to avoid any….uh… _unpleasant_ triggers.”

Murtaugh senses the doctor's confused look, but ignores her. This is between himself and Riggs.

“Nah … I’m good."

“Good? Are you crazy! Look at you. You are not good now and you’re going be even more not good when Doctor Carter here starts poking syringes into that ugly burn of yours.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Once again, are you insane?”

“Possibly. Probably. I just know I don’t want any drugs shot into me.”

“And why is that?”

Riggs closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. After he exhales he says so softly it's hard to hear, “So one of the things they did to me-back when they had me in that place which was like this place, was string me out on all kinds of drugs.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah, that pretty much describes it.”

“I know but-“

“Save your breath. I don’t want to shoot up ever again-even with legal stuff.”

“Is there a problem?” the doctor asks.

“So, uh, Doc, I think you better just go ahead and give him the local. My partner’s had a bad experience in the past with IV narcotics.”

“Fine. But it’s not going to be pleasant.”

“We… uh I mean he gets that.”

“You may want to go back over there and sit down.”

“If it’s okay with you I think I’ll stay right here.”

“It’s your choice.”

______~______

Riggs doesn't hold back.

At all.

"Son of a bitch-God damn it to hell that burns!”

“I’m sorry Mr. Riggs, the burning sensation should let up soon.”

“I’ll let ….you know,” he grits.

Mutaugh hates this. No way his partner, as unbalanced as he is,  needs to go through this. “Hey buddy," he asks him. "Are you sure you don’t want that pain med?"

Riggs shakes his head and closes his eyes.

 _Shit_ , thinks Mutaugh, _The guy wants to suffer._

“Okay Mr. Riggs you should be relatively numb by now. We can’t take away 100 % of the pain but it should be tolerable. Let me know if that’s not the case.”

He watches her choose a #10 scalpel from a tray table she’s rolled up next to the gurney. He knows it’s a #10 because it’s the size that comes in field trauma kits and he’s been on both sides of the things more times than he’d like to admit. “Have at it,” he husks, turning his head away from what she’s about to do which means he’s looking right at Murtaugh, who looks like he plans to watch the whole thing. As uncomfortable as he is he still gets a little kick out of the thought of it. _No way will the guy last ten seconds once the slicing and dicing starts._

“Okay I’m just trimming away some infected tissue,” the doctor explains. Her scalpel glints under the glare of the exam light; soon bright red blood obscures her field. She stops, grabbing some gauze and pressing it against the pooling blood.

“Holy hell," Murtaugh gasps looking away.

_Bingo. Even less than ten seconds._

He would have  enjoyed teasing Roger but right now his attention is being monopolized by a collection of sensations, none of which are good. What started out feeling like pressure is morphing into something pretty close to pain,. When the doctors presses the wad of gauze into his burn it graduates to full fledged agony.

“I…I feel that,” he hisses.

“I’m sorry. I can inject more lidocaine.”

_Great. Throw a little fire into the mix._

It winds up taking another ten minutes for the doctor to finish treating Rigg' s burn-the last five of which he’s calling upon every skill the  endurance challenges at Coronado taught him _._ When she’s finished he’s drenched in sweat and ashen. Next to him, now sitting in a plastic chair he’s pulled over, Murtaugh doesn’t look much better.

“Mr Riggs when was your last tetanus shot? Mr.Riggs?”

“Hey... pal," Murtaugh says shakily, " she’s asking you a question.”

“Huh?” he answers .

“Your last tetanus shot, do you know when it was?”

“No …but I’m sure… I’m good. You know how the Navy-“

The doctor interrupts, “But how long since you’ve been out of the Navy?”

“Four…nearly five years.”

“And you haven’t had one during that time?”

“I haven’t needed one.”

“Well you need one now. “

“Great. Just what I was hoping you’d say.”

“The nurse will take care of it while you get your IV antibiotic. I’ll check on you after that and give you a prescription for an antibiotic and some pain pills. You do take oral pain medicine, don’t you? “

“Yes. He does.” Murtague answers emphatically.

“Good. I did quite a bit of debriding. You’re going to have some discomfort.”

He wants to laugh for the second time. Discomfort? He loves the medical field and the way its practitioners mis-label at will. _A little pinch. Slight pressure. Just a few_ _seconds more_. It was impressive the way they could make whatever agony they were doling out sound utterly benign.

“That’s good,” the doctor says. “We should give you something for the pain now-just pills-would that be okay?”

“That would be…peachy,” he answers, trying for levity but missing the mark when he unintentionally grimaces. It feels like the skin on his lower belly has been flayed open; throbbing pain is radiating down his leg. _How the hell did this happen? It was just a damn cattle prod_.

After the nurse gives him two white tablets and hangs a bag of IV antibiotics she reappears with a syringe so large it looks better suited for the four-legged intended targets of the prod that landed him in the ER . “I need you to roll on your side, Mr. Riggs.”

They both look up at the same time, eyes widening as light glints off the stainless steel barrel of the syringe. “Damn.” Murtaugh says. Riggs says nothing. H When the nurse asks him to roll over again he does but only with her help. It hurts like hell. The pain hijacks 100 % of his attention;  he neither knows or cares about what’s going on with the sheet which is why, seconds later, Murtaugh finds himself staring at his partner's bare ass.

_Damn._

“Just a pinch,” the nurse is telling RIggs before she plunges a wickedly long needle into his backside.

 _Ouch._ Murtaugh thinks to himself. He can’t help but cringe. He also can’t take his eyes away. The way Riggs' glutes tenses-the tiny tremor that runs through them in anticipation of the needle? All of it is damn hard to look away from. Basically the man’s backside is a piece of artwork- a sculpture worthy of the finest museum.

“All done,” the nurse says, “You can roll back over.”

The nurse's voice drags Murtaugh out of whatever crazy place his mind has wandered into. He watches her help his partner roll on to his back; sees Riggs grimace and feels sorry as hell for him. _Again._ Then the trip to crazyville starts all over again. RIggs'  hospital gown is bunched up around his middle. _Damn again_. Before the nurse pulls it down Murtaugh gets a nice unobstructed view of some more museum worthy sculpture. It’s not usually his thing-staring at guys parts– his wife has the equipment he’s partial to. It’s just...it’s just for some reason he can’t take his eyes off Riggs' package. It's not that the man is overly endowed. He isn't. It's more like he’s _perfectly_ endowed. His sack sits tight up against his lean body-home to two firm, equal sized balls framed by a smattering of blondish brown hair.

 _It's just...it's just perfect_.

No hanging down, dangling junk for this cowboy.

And then there’s his cock. _Sweet Jesus._ It's not hard-no way it could be after what the guy just went through. Even so there's an impressive solidness to it Then there’s that perfect symmetry where the crown flares out from his shaft. It's like the thing is beckoning to anyone looking. 

_What the hell ?  
_

_Murtaugh honestly feels liek he's losing what little is left of his mind._

____~____

Murtaugh had called Trish from the hospital and then from the car so she’s not surprised to see them when she opens the door to the garage. She is surprised to see that her husband has to help his partner out of the car.

“Oh Martin,” she whispers and runs into the garage. When the loopy smile he flashes her gives way to a grimace, surprise morphs into worry. “Here,  let me help you.”

“I'm good,” he tells her swaying just a little.

“Well I don’t believe that for a second. Let’s get you inside and on to the couch.”

“Take it slow babe," Mutraugh says. "He started bleeding a little in the car.”

She glances down, noticing for the first time that Riggs is wearing light blue scrubs. There’s a dark red circle right where Roger had told her he’d had been shocked.

“What? Why didn’t you turn right around and go back?”

“I wanted to, believe me I wanted to.”

“Did’n need to. ‘S normal to bleed a’lil.”

“Roger?” Trish locks eyes with him flashing a loud and clear, 'What the hell?’.

He explains as they help Riggs through the kitchen and into the family room, “The doc did say not to be too worried if there was a little bleeding. They gave us supplies to change the dressing-they’re in the back seat.”

Jaw set, Trish slips into mother tiger mode. “Here you go Martin, let’s get you on the couch..” He sways when he reaches it ; looking like he’s trying to figure out the best way to go from vertical to horizontal. “Before you lay down lets get you out of these.”

That gets his attention. Matter of factly like it’s something they’ve done a hundred times, Trish starts untying the drawstring of his scrubs. “It’ll be easier taking these off now than when you’re lying down. Here you go, step out.”

Suddenly cold air is wafting over him; he’s got nothing on under the scrubs. His partner’s wife is down on one knee; eye-level with his junk. He bats at her hands, “No, please…I can do it-“

“Oh stop it Martin. You don’t have anything I haven’t already seen. There now step out.”

He does as he’s told, woodenly like he’s in shock. He is in shock. Who wouldn’t be? He’s standing in his partner’s family room, flanked by his partner’s wife and his partner. And he’s half naked.

“There you go, now sit down, here, let me put this throw under you first. “

In auto pilot, forcing himself not to process but to just do, he carefully lowers himself. Even taking it slow, the motion stretches his burn. He thinks he feels blood trickling out from under the dressing. “Sh…it,” he hisses when his bare backside makes contact with the soft blanket Trish had spread out for him.

“Worst part’s over buddy, let me help you get your legs-“

 _Ok this? This has to stop._ “I got it,” he snaps lying down and pulling part of the blanket over himself. The sudden movement sets off a explosion of pain that does quick work to vanquish any embarrassment he’s feeling. In fact, for a few seconds while he deep breathes around the pain he’s oblivious to the fact that anyone else is in the room.

“Hey! What are you both doing home?”

RJ’s voice puts a quick end to oblivion of any sort. Riggs tugs more of the blanket over him. _Shit._ He wishes more than anything he was back in his trailer where he could curl up and be ignored for days.

“Martin got hurt baby, Trish tells RJ. "Your dad took him to the ER and he’s going to stay with us while he gets better.”

“What happened to you Riggs-how'd you get hurt?” RJ calls from the kitchen.

“Leave him alone son. Do me a favor and go get the bag of bandages out of the backseat of my car.”

“But what happened to him, dad?” RJ asks, heading toward the door to the garage.

“He..., he took a cattle prod for me yesterday.”

“Wow really? Where?”

“Here,” Murtaugh says pointing to the crease above his leg.

“Whoa! A few inches over and that could have been really bad huh Dad?”

“Would you just get those bandages, please RJ.”

“Jeez, I’m just saying.”

"I know son, I know what you're saying."

"So RIggs... he... he really did that for you?"

"Yes he did, but it wasn't that big of a deal."

Like he doesn't hear his dad and staring at the sofa in the family room, RJ says softly, "He's gonna be...okay-right?"

"Of course he is."  
_____~_______


	3. Chapter 3

They ask the nanny to take Harper to the park and tell the older kids to stay out of the family room for a while. Changing Riggs’ bandage doesn't exactly qualify as a family activity. 

The good news is Riggs has taken another dose of pain medicine and is a little loopy. There's no bad news yet, at least no more bad news. The fact that the prod did as much damage as it did has Murtaugh feeling all kinds of guilty.

Taking the reins because her husband seems to be distracted Trish reads the discharge instructions from the hospital and then sits down on the couch next to Riggs. When he looks up at her she tells him, matter-of-factly, “Martin. We need to change that bandage of yours. Here, let me put this towel under you first.”

"Huh?"

"That messy bandage of yours." Roger, suddenly rebooted, explains. "Trish and I are going to change it."

"If you...wanna."

“Oh we do,"  Roger says, "Go ahead and lift up for Trish while I uh," something suddenly distracts him but he recovers quickly. "While I strategically situate this blanket.”

Riggs gives Murtaugh a bleary eyed stare. “What?”

“You heard me, lift your bottom up so Trish can put a towel under it and in the meantime I’m going to make sure your business is covered.”

Riggs frowns again, still not really getting it but this time doing as he’s told.

“There you go,” Murtaugh says, hands moving fast to position the blanket where it needs to be. “I got you, as we say in the business, _covered_.”

“Oh Roger that was awful!”

“I dunno I think it was kinda clever.”

“Thank you Riggs.”

“Ok Martin I’m pulling your bandage off, let me know if I’m hurting you.”

“Go ‘head.”

Trish hasn’t seen what’s under the bandage and gasps “Oh Martin," when she does. Roger saw the doctor’s handiwork in the ER but had looked away after a few seconds so he’s almost as surprised as his wife at the angry, bloody wound that a simple cattle prod produced. “Damn Riggs,” he says, “That looks like hell.”

“And _that_ , Roger is so not helpful. Here-throw this away for me,” Trish says, handing him the bandage and picking up a bottle of saline. As soon as she starts to pour it over Riggs’ burn he goes rigid.

“Ayyyeee, tha’s cold!”

“Sorry Martin,”

“So’kay," he gasps.

“I’m just going to dry this off and then put some ointment on it,”

“Why don't you just put the goo on now and cover it back up?” Roger asks.

“No, the discharge instructions said to make sure the wound is dry.” Trish answers reaching for some gauze. “You doing okay Martin?”

“Yeah.”

When the gauze makes contact with his burn everything changes. Riggs holds his breath looking  like he's trying hard not to grimace. When Trish starts daubing at his blistered skin he gasps, “Okay, that there... that smarts a little." Before Trish can answer he rears up off the sofa with a loud groan.

Oh, and whatever was covered a minute ago?  It's now uncovered. Not that he cares.

Not that anyone cares.

“I’m sorry, hold still , I’m nearly finished,” Trish tells him grabbing more gauze to pat the rest of the burn dry. “Roger, get me that ointment ,” she says, trying to stay focused on what’s she doing and not on the scenery just a few inches from where she’s working.

Momentarily unaware of anything except the new  pain in his groin, Riggs squeezes his eyes closed and deep breathes around it.

“That’s it Martin, you're doing great. I’m nearly through.”

“Here babe, here’s the stuff.”

Trish looks up and reaches for the tube Roger is handing her. “Thank you sweetie” she tells him, “why don’t you cover Martin up."

He does a double take. “Whoa, how did this happen buddy,” he asks, grabbing for the blanket that used to be covering his partner.

“Wha?’

“Nothing. I'm just trying to keep you decent.”

Riggs looks down and groans.

“Not to worry- I’ll take care of you, here, lift up for me,”

As much as he's hurting, Riggs can't pass up the chance to do a little razzing, “Would you stop... messing around... with my junk.”

“I’m doing you a favor, pal,” Roger tells him.

“How about you do me a favor Roger and open those bandages,” Trish says. Then, a little softer, “Martin?”

He meets eyes with her,, “Yes mam?”

“I’m going to put some medicine on your burn now and then bandage you back up. I need you to lay still for me.”

He gives her a weak smile, draping an arm over his eyes, “I’ll be good. I promise.”

A second later, “Son of a bitch that stings!”

So much for being good.

Riggs rears up off the couch.

“Roger, help me!”

“Take it easy Riggs, hold still”

“Damn it to hell ! Ouch!”

“I’m so sorry honey but I have to do this.”

Roger is doing his best to hold his partner down so his wife can do what she has to do. Riggs through no fault of his own can’t help but twist and squirm as the burning sensation above his thigh ramps up. Keeping anything under cover gets jettisoned as a game plan. The goal now is to get Martin’s burn dressed and stop torturing him. “That’s it, nearly done,” Roger tells him, trying his best to hold Riggs still.

Trish works fast, placing thick sterile dressings over his burn. “I need tape, Roge” she tells him. To Martins she says, “As soon as I tape these in place we’re all finished .

He doesn’t say anything.

"Martin?"

When he sighs but still doesn't say anything it feels right to run her hand over his forehead. As awful as she feels about hurting him and as much as she wants Roger to hurry with the tape she can’t help but take a good look at her patient. _Lord have mercy_. She can't help but look.  A circumcised cock has always intrigued her. Martin’s is more than intriguing, it’s a thing of beauty. Same goes for his lean carved abdomen and the narrow wispy trail of hair that leads down it like a crazy, impossible to ignore beacon.

“Here you go baby. Trish?”

“Huh? I mean what honey?”

“Here’s the tape.” He gives her a half-hearted frown-no way can he really blame her. _Look at the damn guy would you?_ Not racing to cover anything up just yet he watches his wife carefully tape the bandage on Riggs. Her slender fingers are just inches from his equipment. It makes no sense in this or any universe but damn if he doesn’t start to feel a ruckus behind his zipper. _What the heck?_

“Go ahead baby,I'm done.  Cover him up,” Trish tells him.

"Roger?" she says again.

"Yeah. what babe?"

"Cover Martin up."

“Will do." And then to Riggs, "Okay, pal, lets get you decent-how about it?”

"What?" Riggs opens his eyes to give Murtaugh a confused, but then as the blanket settles over him, grateful look. “Hey thanks, Roge,” he husks. Then he looks over at Trish, “And thank you too Trish. You guys shouldn’t hav’ta do this.”

“Don’t be silly Martin. Of course we should. You’re family. This here? This is what family does.”

Adjusting his pants and hoping this insanity stops sooner than later, Roger adds. “That’s right Riggs. You just lay back and relax. We got you covered.”  
______~______

_Eight hours later_

At first Roger thinks he’s hearing Harper over the baby monitor.

“No ! No more!”

_Okay that’s not Harper._

Clumsy because he’s half asleep he lunges out of bed and almost crashes into the door before he realizes it’s closed. Door opened, he’s racing down the hallway when he hears an agonized scream that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.  Feeling frantic he rushes into the guestroom and to the bed where he’d deposited Riggs just a few hours earlier. When he turns the light on he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Drenched in sweat, Riggs is tangled up in the sheets and thrashing at some imaginary enemy.

The man is clearly terrified.

“No!” he yells again and then his voice suddenly changes to a helpless whimper. "Please….no,” he begs.

“Riggs, buddy, wake up.” He has to say it again and again before his partner opens his eyes.

“What?” Riggs asks, completely disoriented and scanning the guestroom like he expects some one to leap out from behind the dresser.

“You had a nightmare buddy. You’re fine. You’re staying here with us, with Trish and me, remember?”

It would have loosened the knot in his gut if even just a hint of relief had flashed across Riggs’ face. Instead his partner drops back against the bed- eyes squeezed shut, face contorted by what looked like terrible pain.

“What is it Riggs, talk to me, damn it.”

“No. Go. Please go.”

“Like hell I’m going anywhere. Come on. Look at me.”

“I mean it. Go.”

“Let me at least get you a dry shirt-this one is soaking wet.”

“No, I'm fine.”

“I know you are. I know. Let’s just get you out of this.”

It’s a tactic he’s used over and over with the kids, when they’re sick or scared. He doesn’t disagree, he doesn’t try to make a point. He just does what they need him to do. “There,” he murmurs, pulling Riggs t shirt off and covering him with a sheet. “I stuck a pile of t shirts in the dresser over there- let me get you one.”

Riggs says nothing.

“Sit up , pal, lets put this on,” he tells him a second later. Like his kids would do, Riggs lifts his arms and lets him slide the t shirt over them. He would have liked to changed the damp sheets too but settles for straightening them and covering Riggs when he lays back down. Instead of leaving after he turns the light off, he sits down on the edge of the bed, edging Riggs over a little to make room for himself. Just like he used to do with the kids, he’s hoping the darkness will help Riggs share whatever horrible thing it is he’s holding on to.

Riggs has other ideas. “Thanks Roge… I’m good-you can go.”

“You don’t look so good.” After a few minutes of silence, he adds, “I got to say, that looked like one hell of a nightmare.”

“It wasn’t...that bad.”

“You ever have it before?”

“A few times.”

"A few?"

"A few times a week."

“Shit. That’s got to be rough.”

“It’s …I’m fine. Look. go back to bed.”

“I wish I could but the thing is I care too damn much about you-don’t ask me why- to leave you here alone.. Back in the day, when I had a nightmare my momma always stayed with me- kinda put me through a debrief of sorts until I knew deep down that the nightmare was over, that I could go back to sleep and really sleep.”

“Well you can’t do that for me.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s different.”

“How so?”

Even with the light off, he  can see the struggle on his partner's face. “Talk to me Martin.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Sure there is. Tell me about the nightmare.”

Maybe he finally wore Riggs down. Maybe Riggs was finally done with carrying what he’d been carrying by himself. It didn’t really matter; what mattered was that he answered.

“It’s not like a regular nightmare. It’s …it’s much worse.”

“How?”

“I…I smell the room…..I feel them doing things…it’s like I’m there again.”

“I’m guessing it’s something that happened over there. When you were with the SEALs? ”

“Yeah. It’s the same dream every time.”

“What happens?” After he asks it he waits, not really expecting Riggs to take him up on this-not even sure what _this_ is.

“I’m..I’m back in the…place they took me to,” Riggs says, sounding far away, like he’s seeing the place again. “They've got me strapped to a table …”

He waits, feeling sick to his stomach as he imagines what’s coming next. No way does he want to hear it; no way can he not force RIggs to say it. “And then what?”

“Then they… do… shit to me. “

“Like shoot you up with drugs?”

“No. That comes later."

"So what do they do? "

"First they stick things in me, in places where it hurts so bad I want to die. They put tubes in me and drip stuff in me that burns like acid. It hurts so damn bad. I scream . I scream so hard there’s blood in my throat-I can taste it.”

“What do they want from you?”

“They want intel, they want to know our numbers, our armaments.”

“But you don’t tell them.”

“No. I don’t tell them.”

“So they keep hurting you?”

“Yeah. Until I pass out, then when I wake up it starts again.”

“Jesus Martin. How long until you got out of there?”

“A couple weeks. I thought it would never end but then all of a sudden, one day the place lights up like it’s the fourth of July and suddenly Reed, our team’s medic is leaning in over me telling me everything’s okay, that it’s over.”

“But it wasn’t over.”

"Yeah it was."

"Not really."

"Okay, not really. They had to airlift me to Landstule.”

“Germany?”

“How’d you know?”

“I’ve heard about it on the news.”

“So I was there for three weeks."

"And then what?"

"Then I went back to my team."

‘You went back?”

“Yeah. I was all healed up. Mostly. It still hurt like a son of a bitch to pee, but I was in good enough shape to join my guys.”

“You wanted to go back?”

“Of course I did. I wanted to find those sons of bitches I wanted to make them hurt.”

“Did you?”

“No. They’d cleared out when we went back to the compound where they found me.”

“Damn Riggs. I don’t know how you do it. I… I got all kinds of respect for you.”

“Why?”

“Hell. Let's see, because you survived what you went through? Because you went back to fight again? Because you didn’t tell those bastards a thing? Shit. How much time do you have?”

When Riggs doesn’t say anything, he goes on. “You’re not like most men, Riggs. You’re…you’re so much damn tougher- you’ve been through so much.”

“And look where it’s gotten me.”

The emptiness in Rigg's voice makes his throat ache. He blinks hard. “I don’t have anything wise to say. Buddy. I don’t have anyway to make your pain go away. I wish to hell I did. “

“It’s fine. I’m fine."

“The thing is even if I can’t do anything about the horrible things you’ve endured, I can be here for you. As painful as you make that at times, I can be here, by your side. I can listen. I can drink beer with you. I can, and yes, this is a true statement, I can marvel at how incredibly fast that brain of yours works."

"I….I appreciate that. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. “

“You know I think I can go to sleep now.”

“That’s good to hear. I’m just going to go sit over there in that comfy chair while you do that.”

“You don’t have to-“

“Don’t waste your breath Riggs. Just go to sleep.”

“Goodnight Roge.”

Goodnight buddy.”

 

~fin~


End file.
